


Nice Day for a White Wedding

by pleasekalemenow



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Footnotes, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I lied, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Wedding Planning, oops remember when I said my next fic was shameless smut?, rated T for profanity and sex jokes, this shit has haunted me and I had to get it down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 13:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20507459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasekalemenow/pseuds/pleasekalemenow
Summary: Crowley shook his head, for once lacking the courage to look his angel in the eyes. “I’m, ah. I’m not sure this is my color, Angel.”“What are you talking about?” Aziraphale ran his hands down Crowley’s arms, taking his hands and pulling his arms up playfully as he admired the dress. “You look spectacular, my dear.”“Well, yeah.” Duh. “It’s just--I was thinking about what you said, about purity.”Aziraphale gave him a conspiratorial smirk. “Now, Crowley, you know I don’t go in for all that antiquated ‘virginity’ nonsense. You can still--”Crowley groaned a little. “Not that. I don’t give a toss what anyone else thinks about that, it’s just.” He looks down at where their hands are joined. Remembers Aziraphale, resplendent in his wedding suit, his smile radiating warm love that might as well have come from--well. “Holy matrimony--I mean, it’s all in the title, isn’t it?”--In which Crowley tries on wedding dresses, and has some concerns about old traditions.Title is from Billy Idol's "White Wedding."





	Nice Day for a White Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all I am ABSOLUTELY lost in the sauce over these two. I *love* them.  
Anyway, enjoy this little drabble! Come yell at me on tumblr @pleasekalemenow if you're so inclined.

Crowley knew, all things considered, that he really ought to stop being such a  _ bloody _ wanker and step out of the changing room.

Yet, he couldn’t seem to be able to bring himself to do it.

He and Aziraphale had gone shopping together--of  _ course _ they had. Sure, it bucked traditions, but they’d been around since before the stupid things were invented, and so he figured they didn’t really apply to them.

Funny, how some traditions were easy to shrug off, while others…

“Crowley, dear?” Aziraphale’s voice called, muffled by the changing room door. “Are you quite alright in there?”

“M’fine,” Crowley muttered, then realized that he wouldn’t be audible through the door. “I’m alright, angel, just taking my time is all.”

“Oh, alright then, darling--just,  _ do _ let me know if you have any trouble, won’t you?”

“Of course, Angel,” said the demon, as if he were not, at that very moment, having a great deal of trouble.

Aziraphale’s outfit had been so  _ easy _ . It had taken all of a minute for him to decide that he preferred the look of a white-on-white ensemble to the traditional dark suit with light undershirt.[1]

Turning in his spiffy new outfit, he’d asked, “Do you know, Crowley, the reason why white is traditional for wedding attire?”

Crowley knew. Of course he knew--it would have been hard to find someone who  _ didn’t _ . Still, Aziraphale looked so happy, and so the demon foolishly indulged. “No. Why’s that?”

“Because,” said Aziraphale, smiling radiantly, “it’s meant to symbolize purity, and humans like to bring that notion into their lives together.[2] Isn’t that lovely?”

Crowley had said yes, at the time.  _ Stupid _ .

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, feeling pinned in every sense of the word. He was wearing a  _ stunning _ gown--he’d picked it out himself, even--with a lace bateau neckline, a sheath silhouette, and  _ exquisite _ embroidery, to say nothing of how ravishing he looked in the cut-out back.

The dress, of course, was white as snow. And so, naturally, Crowley had to have a fucking fit about it in the middle of what had otherwise been a lovely afternoon.

It having been a few minutes, another knock came to the door.

“Crowley?”

The demon in question cleared his throat softly, hoping it would be enough to make him  _ not _ sound like he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Are you certain you wouldn’t like any help in there? If you’re worried about superstition, I can have the lovely consultant come back and--”

“ _ No! _ ” Crowley exclaimed, rather too forcefully. “No, I’m--don’t send anyone else back here.”

There was a pause. “Crowley dear, might I come in?”

He made a noncommittal noise. “I’d sort of rather you didn’t. I’m...it’s a bit of a mess, at the moment.”

“Mm. Is it to do with the dress?”

Crowley, who hadn’t yet stopped staring at his reflection, nodded before quickly realizing Aziraphale couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

“Oh, is there a fitting problem?”

Crowley pondered for a moment. “I suppose so.” There were a lot of ways something might not fit. If Crowley meant it in a metaphorical way and Aziraphale in a literal one, that was hardly  _ his _ fault, was it?

“Oh, that’s nothing to worry about! Were you able to get it on?”

“...Yes?” He searched the eyes of his reflection for help, but they were just as frantic and confused as he was.

“Then we can get that sorted! Won’t you come out, dearest?”

Crowley paused. “Am I allowed to say no?”

He could’ve sworn he heard a chuckle from the other side of the door. “You can say whatever you’d like, dear. I won’t  _ force _ you to come out if you don’t want to. Only…I  _ do _ wish you’d tell me what was really the matter.”

Finally, Crowley turned away from the mirror to face the door. He paused, deliberating.

Aziraphale jumped a bit when the door creaked open. “Crowley! I--well I  _ must _ say, my darling, you look absolutely  _ breathtaking. _ Is it uncomfortable--is that the issue?”

Crowley shook his head, for once lacking the courage to look his angel in the eyes. “I’m, ah. I’m not sure this is my color, Angel.”

“What are you talking about?” Aziraphale ran his hands down Crowley’s arms, taking his hands and pulling his arms up playfully as he admired the dress. “You look spectacular, my dear.”

“Well, yeah.”  _ Duh _ . “It’s just--I was thinking about what you said, about purity.”

Aziraphale gave him a conspiratorial smirk. “Now, Crowley, you  _ know _ I don’t go in for all that antiquated ‘virginity’ nonsense. You can still--”

Crowley groaned a little. “Not  _ that _ . I don’t give a toss what anyone else thinks about  _ that _ , it’s just.” He looks down at where their hands are joined. Remembers Aziraphale, resplendent in his wedding suit, his smile radiating warm love that might as well have come from--well. “ _ Holy _ matrimony--I mean, it’s all in the title, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale frowned. “Crowley, I don’t think I like where you’re going with this.”

“I mean, you’re an  _ angel _ and I’m a  _ demon _ , we’ve hashed that out enough, I know, but...I don’t know, I always thought of it from the perspective of being on opposite sides of a  _ war _ , or, I dunno, like we rooted for different football teams, but I hadn’t really considered…” He wasn’t quite sure how to finish that thought in a way that wouldn’t make Aziraphale  _ horribly _ sad for him. He absolutely deplored doing that. 

“Considered what, Crowley?” the angel probed, ever gentle with him.

He traced absentminded circles over the backs of his fiancé’s hands with his thumbs. “I’ve done worse than just...sabotage cell towers and invent Crocs, you know. I don’t…”

“Crowley, I knew that already. I accept you as you are.”

“But  _ why?” _

There’s a lot to unpack in that simple two-word question, and Crowley immediately wishes he could take it back.

“ _ Why? _ ” Aziraphale’s voice occupies a strange area between incredulous and tender. “My love.” He drops one of Crowley’s hands in order to cup his cheek. “It would be easier to explain why laughter cures the spirit, or what in the  _ world _ the Lord found so funny about planting fossils on earth. But, I shall endeavor to explain as best I can.” He smiled softly, and Crowley leaned into the hand on his cheek.

“My dear, from the Beginning, you’ve been so  _ unusual _ , so  _ curious _ . I was quite taken with you and your questions, your probing eyes…” He sighed, contentedly. “Even as much of a fool as I’ve been for most of our relationship, you have never once wavered in your loyalty to me, or your kindness. Little moments, when you thought I couldn’t see--coins, ‘dropped’ in the direction of a beggar, or a child you held close when there was no way for you to tempt them, no one to say you couldn’t.” Crowley, whose gaze was fixed on the floor, found Aziraphale tilting his chin up to look him in the eyes. His face burned, as did the corners of his eyes. “You’re such a delight to be around, and even when you are a bit of a--”

“Demon?” Crowley guessed.

Aziraphale tutted. “I was going to say  _ troublemaker _ .”

“Of course.” A smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth, despite himself.

“My point is, the world is brighter when you’re standing beside me, and you bring out a side of me that’s so…” The angel deliberated for a moment, eyes searching the middle distance for the right word before finding it and returning Crowley’s gaze once more. “ _ Human _ . You make me more  _ human _ , Crowley, and that’s the best thing of all.”

A tear fell, and Crowley quickly raised his hand to wipe it away, but Aziraphale was already doing it. “You’re such a softie, Angel.”

“Oh, not to mention you’re an  _ excellent _ lay.”

He snorted. “Better be.”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “Now, dear--do you understand how I love you so?”

Crowley didn’t, not really--but he  _ believed _ him when he said it was true. It was rather nice, believing in someone. He’d all but forgotten how it felt to have faith in something pure. “I think so, Angel.”

The angel leaned in to kiss him softly, his lips feather-soft but insistent. It wasn’t deep, but there was a depth of affection in it that left Crowley breathless.

“Well, I’ll have to keep explaining it to you until that’s a firm ‘yes.’”

Suddenly, a cleared throat a bit to their side called their attention to the consultant, who was still there. The occult (and/or ethereal) figures blushed profusely but didn’t pull away.

“So, will you be taking the dress, then?” asked the young woman, who looked like she was paid  _ entirely _ too little to work here.[3]

Aziraphale looked to Crowley, eyebrows raised. The demon glanced at himself in the mirror again. Smiled.

“Ah, why not.”

Aziraphale smiled brilliantly as Crowley stepped back into the changing room to take the dress off for now. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but, in the end, just closed it again and smiled as Crowley shut the door behind him with a wink.[4]

**Author's Note:**

> 1 He had fret, for a moment, over the resemblance it bore to his Heavenly attire. “Don’t let that group of tossers ruin this for you, Angel,” Crowley had said, and Aziraphale’s furrowed brow had relaxed gradually into an earnest expression--one of adoration. [return to text]  
2 It should be noted, here, that when Aziraphale said “purity,” he was not thinking of purity of the body, or even purity of the mind, but rather purity of love and of intention. [return to text]  
3 This appearance wasn’t misleading in the slightest. [return to text]  
4 Aziraphale had quite a few things he wanted to say to Crowley; grand declarations of love; verbal adoration that would verge on idolatry; affirmation of his love and of Crowley’s worthiness; a joke about how he hated to see him go but loved to watch him leave (his ass did look fantastic in that dress); in the end, he couldn’t put any of his feelings into words, but he had a feeling that Crowley understood them nonetheless. (It did.) [return to text]  



End file.
